His Harry
by TheRiddleWriter
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle never had much of anything when staying at Wool's Orphanage, but he did have a friend, and that friend was HIS and nobody else's. Nobody else may have Harry Lily Potter or the world would burn. Fem!Harry/Tom
1. Wool's

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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 **(31 October 1928)**

A cold, autumn chill visited England that night; the likes of which invaded the senses and seeped through children's skin, no matter how many tattered, patched blankets they had bundled to their shivering bodies already.

This chill met Wool's Orphanage, a young, tightly swaddled babe, and its holder right outside the front door.

"We love you, Harry. Make sure to be a good girl for your future mummy and daddy, okay, love?"

A soft coo and a cherubic smile answered back.

The dark haired man returned the baby's smile with a sad one of his own. "Paddy's got to go right now, but he'll come back to visit in the future. God-Daddy just needs to run from some highly pretentious, big-headed, ugly old Aurors in need of a fashion update at the moment and needs to go into hiding."

The man quickly kissed the baby's forehead and carefully placed her down on the porch he stood upon. After casting a warming charm on her to ward off the cool chill that nipped at his own skin, he placed his attention on the auspicious looking door in front of him.

After moments of hesitation, he gathered himself visibly. With one quick inhalation of the frigid air, he rapped three times on the wooden door and quickly made his way off the porch, trying to keep out of sight. As he stood halfway across the front property, the scraggly-haired man stopped in another bout of hesitation to turn back and take one last glance at his god-daughter.

The young youth, already sensing the lost of his magic, started to cry, wailing at the top of its tiny lungs for him to come back and take her with him. But he couldn't, he thought desperately, not when he was on the run, not when he had too many enemies that would be glad to see him dead, not when he had another murderer to kill. With one last wave and telling wet cheeks, Sirius Black turned away and dissapparated with a loud pop.

At the sound of a pop, the rickety door opened and revealed an astonished caretaker staring at yet another baby lying on their steps.

 **...**

The matron was having a rough day that day. One of the older boys, sick with fever, had hallucinations and screamed at the top of his lungs every time the caretakers tried to put him to sleep. One of the girls had stuck bubblegum in another girls hair (lord knows where she got it), forcing Mrs. Cole to give her a rough haircut. On top of that, the government money they needed to fund for the whole orphanage depleted quickly before her very eyes. The money could not stretch for food, clothes, and maintenance of the orphanage, let alone enough to cover for medicine.

Before long, Mrs. Cole would have to decide whether or not to give up some of her caretakers or to further ration the food for the children.

In her heart of hearts, she knew the children were her top priority, but even she had to agree, there were simply too many children living in her too small orphanage. But she had to try her best.

A light tap on her door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Yes? Who is it?"

"It's Lizzie, madame," came the response of one of her best caretakers.

"Oh, of course, come in, come in"

The blonde lady that entered was a young thing with tired eyes. The poor girl had gone through too much. Swaddled in her delicate arms was a sniffling baby with hair dark as ash and eyes green as emeralds.

"I found her on our doorstep; no note."

Mrs. Cole sighed heavily. Great, another child to feed and look after. The money would have to stretch even more.

"Any insight on her name?"

"I saw a name inscribed on her blanket," the lady said, hesitantly, "but it's quite odd. It said Harry Lily Potter, but Harry is a boy's name."

At the sound of her name, the baby looked up and sniffed again, hands reaching up to tug firmly on the blonde lady's curls. The blonde winced in pain and patiently started prying her locks out of curious hands. Side-tracked by her task, she murmured, " I don't think we should call her that, though. The other orphans would laugh at her. You know how children can be."

The matron hummed in agreement, "That is true, but you know our policies. The children must go by the names they are given. It's the adopter's choice if they want to change the name."

"I understand," Lizzie paused in uncertainty, "Where shall I put her? We don't have anymore cribs to place her in."

And it was true. Each crib already hosted its own resident young one, and the madame could not afford to buy another one. The heavy-set woman felt guilty and ashamed that she could not provide for this child the same way she had provided for the others. Mrs. Cole rarely indulged in unfairness but it could not be helped.

"We just have to make her share one with another baby."

A nod and a twitch of her lips were the matron's only response and the woman felt even more guilt set upon her shoulders.

 **...**

Lizzie held the dark haired babe in her arms, and her heart went out to the young one like it did to all the others.

The cruelty of leaving a baby on the doorstep of an orphanage disgusted and horrified her. Though Lizzie knew that sometimes the situation could not be helped, it did not soothe the anger and hate that dwelled within her for those so-called parents. At least a third of the children at the orphanage weren't orphans, or at least orphans by definition. Most had a parent still living who was unable or unwilling to look after his or her kid. That did not even take in account the amount of children that had secondary family whom refused to take care of the 'unproper sort'. These children had feelings and personalities that there biological parents would never get to know. They didn't deserve to know them.

And this one, bless her soul, did not even come with a note to explain her situation. She came with no birth date to honor her own special day, nor confirmation that her name was even the one sewn on the bizarre blanket with flying golden baseballs. The baby did not even possess an explanation of what to tell her when she would start to ask questions. Nothing.

An unfortunate thing, really. Tragic even.

Lizzie quietly eased one of the doors open and gazed out at the nursery. Six cribs stood in an array, each filled with a tiny sleeping resident of its own.

The blonde felt another small twinge of sadness for the baby in her arms that liked to tug at her hair.

She didn't even get a crib to herself.

The lady sighed; it took so long for the young ones to settle down enough to sleep. It was always the roughest chore to do and had kept her up for the past two nights. If one baby began to cry, the rest would be jostled enough to join in...all except one.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had always been odd, Lizzie thought. He never seemed to cry like the rest of them and never seemed fooled like the others when she would try to play peek-a-boo with him. If anything, he made her feel quite silly and stupid when she tried to pull that one, which was completely ridiculous. How could a baby, only 22 months old, make her, a full grown adult, feel dumb?

The boy was beautiful, not unlike the baby she was currently holding within her arms. She believed he had a hidden intelligence behind those navy blue eyes which seemed to notice _everything_. It sometimes made her skin crawl with how observant those unnerving eyes were.

He would not cry ever. When he wanted something, he would tug roughly on her sleeve, hair, or anything of availability to get her attention and blankly stare into her eyes while she frantically tried to figure out what he needed. And that was only when she was nearby! Other times, if she stood too far away, he would throw whatever was convenient at her to get her attention. Lizzie would often wonder how the boy had the strength to grasp onto his entire blanket and chuck it far enough to get to her across the room, but, then again, Tom had always been odd.

Casting Tom's oddness aside, Lizzie believed Tom was her best bet to a complete night's rest for the first time in a while.

With the hopes that the boy would not break his no-crying streak, Lizzie carefully placed the baby girl inside his crib.

Tom's eyes instantly opened at the sudden breach of space.

Lizzie gasped and kept as quiet as possible, praying to God that he would not burst into tears and give her another night of no sleep.

Tom slowly sat up to look at the other baby sitting right next to him. Mutely aware of the yellow caretaker right outside the bars of his crib, Tom was taken with a rush of pure warmth and comfort of... _something_ that was emanating from the girl next to him.

It was new and inviting to him. It coursed through him and grasped on to him like a hug he had never received. It giggled and whispered it's greetings to him, holding tightly on to him like a security blanket.

He was entranced. Never had he felt such _power_ rolling off another child. Not like his own.

Automatically and without thought, he reached out with his own _something_ to greet her back, a pudgy hand unconsciously moving to interlock with one of hers and hers squeezing his back.

The young dark-haired girl giggled lightly back at him, and he answered back with a small smile he hadn't really done before.

With that, the two orphans laid down and drifted off to sleep, one excited and overtaken by this new _something_ and the other relieved to finally feel the touch of magic again after the brief absence.

The blonde caretaker watched in amazement at the events that just unfolded before her. Never had Tom taken such a liking to another child before, much less anyone else.

She backed away slowly and without a sound to exit the nursery.

As Lizzie closed the door on the way out, she felt a slight shiver go down her spine. She could not help but think that something had changed irrevocably.

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To be continued...

 **A/N: Well I actually don't know if I want to continue this, but I am leaving the 'To be continued' there if I ever do plan on finishing it.**

 **I admit it's not a new concept to have, but I still think I took an okay crack at it . . . please review?**


	2. Bath Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

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Green.

Tom favored the color green.

Green was what he saw when he woke up in the mornings and fell asleep to in the evenings. He even saw the color in his dreams.

He began to took comfort in it and the little girl the color belonged to.

Those green eyes stared at him and watched him throughout all hours of the day. The little resident that shared his space had become a permanent fixture in his life. While he napped, while he ate, while he did anything of note, they would shadow him, but he didn't mind.

He watched her too.

He got used to those eyes following him, and his eyes following back. They provided him with a comfort that he didn't really know, hadn't ever really known.

When their eyes met, it was as if Tom and that girl were the only ones in the room, in existence even. There was something ethereal about it. When midnight blue eyes met green, it was as if they shared something. There was something that buzzed inside of him when he looked at her, an awareness of an intangible _thing_ that he possessed within himself, though he couldn't physically see it. And he knew she felt it too. She had to feel it too. It couldn't just be him.

There was a certain power that they both held, and it granted him a certain level of contentment every time their eyes connected. The power was all-consuming, like a raging fire they both shared that couldn't be put out. It was addictive. She was addictive.

And somewhere along the way, Tom became attached to those eyes.

He began to dislike it when those eyes weren't focused on him, when they began to wander over their surroundings, or worse, to another child. Tom would try to do anything that would capture back her attention.

The first time it happened, Tom had been irate. He had just gotten used to those eyes, started liking those eyes and then she turned her attention away. He had violently tugged on one of her locks of black hair to get her attention back and immediately regretted it when those eyes shifted to something that looked like pain. Tom didn't know why, but he did not like that look on her face. It didn't sit right with him. It was as if those eyes were not meant to be in pain.

It felt wrong.

So he endeavored to change his strategy. At first he tried to physically get her to stare at him, trying to gently, if a little clumsily, turn her face to him by grasping onto her cheeks. It didn't work. Tom simply did not have the patience to do so every time her head began to turn.

But Tom was determined. In a feat of genius and frustration, he had found a way to brush her consciousness with his power.

Tom was very pleased with this new development.

...

In the dead of the night, the yellow caretaker woke her from her sleep, grabbed her out of his crib, and took her to who knows where.

Those green eyes were obviously in distressed, crying and screaming as if she were dying, and it probably felt like she was. Tom felt a sudden rip of her whatever leaving him to feel utterly desolate. There was something inside him that yearned for that girl to come back like a sudden need that overtook him.

With that girl, he felt complete. Full. Satisfied. As if she was the missing piece that he had never known he needed.

And he needed her back.

It was the first time Tom had ever cried. Tom cried silently. He refused to be like all the other children, screaming and undignified with their cries for attention. Tom did not need attention. He just needed that girl back.

Harry was not faring any better. The moment she was ripped away from the touch of magic the dark blue boy provided was the moment the feeling of cold numbness spread through her. A magical child such as herself that was raised with a constant touch of magic did not function well under muggle surroundings. Muggleborns, however, had already acclimated themselves to that environment since birth and did not have the withdrawal symptoms that half bloods and pure bloods exhibit.

It was safe to say, Harry was not functioning well under the circumstances. She wriggled in the caretakers arms, arms reaching out, clenching her hands out to the direction they had just come from.

She wanted the blue boy. She needed him back. He was the only source of familiarity in this otherwise numb environment.

With a nip of the blonde lady's fingers and a cry of bloody murder, the woman seemed to have enough.

Shushing and sweet coddling seemed to have no affect on calming the wild child down. Lizzie finally reached the drawn bath and carefully put her in the tepid water.

At the touch of water, the ebony haired girl's volume doubled, loud and horrifying.

Lizzie raced to give the girl the quickest bath possible before putting the babe back in her shared crib.

Then something odd happened. With the child's screams, the electric lights that lit up the bathroom began to all flicker at once. At first it was just a quick blink. And than it seemed to intensify more, corresponding with the child's volume. It began to flicker rapidly, to the point one of the electric bulbs exploded and left them in darkness.

At the sudden darkness, Harry stopped wailing, sniffling at the damage she had caused.

Lizzie was horrified. She stared at the baby and the broken light bulbs again, eyes flicking between the two. This was crazy. There was no way that this baby had caused this. After crossing herself twice for good measure, Lizzie cast her suspicious thoughts aside. She was tired after all. Three nights of sleep deprivation can make people start seeing things. It might be time to ask the Matron for a day off to get her wits about her.

Lizzie gathered Harry up and redressed her, Harry sniffling all the way through.

After being cleaned and washed, Harry started her tears anew. She needed to be by her magic source again. She needed him. She needed the dark haired, blue eyed boy with the magic as delicious and dark as the best type of chocolates.

Lizzie quickly rushed the girl back to the nursery. She realized that the closer she got, the softer the baby's cries were.

As she entered the nursery, Lizzie set the baby girl back into her shared crib and saw another peculiar sight: Tom Riddle with tear tracks on his cheeks.

The boy hadn't even acknowledged her when he took the baby's hands in his and pushed his forehead near hers.

Tom was relieved. Tom made a silent promise to himself to do whatever it takes to keep those green eyes in his life, by his side, forever.

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To Be Continued...

 **A/N: I'm overwhelmed by the support that I have been seeing. Thank you.**

 **Please Review**


	3. Visiting Days

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

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Visiting Days were the most celebrated days at Wool's Orphanage, besides Christmas and Easter.

Twice a year, eager, young couples would visit from all across London and even further to meet the children and potentially find one they could adopt and raise as their own. Despite low funding, Wool's Orphanage stood as one of the top orphanages on the list for prospecting parents. Their rate of adoption ranked higher than most due to the orphans' reputation of general propriety.

The children at Wool's below the age of twelve held much hope every time Visiting Day came around and behaved and dressed the best they could.

The leading days before Visiting Day had Mrs. Cole and the caretakers running around like headless chickens.

One of the boys set one of the sofa chairs on fire with a matchstick he said he found outside. One of the girls got into a fight with her roommate where hair pulling ensued. Apparently, one of them had stolen the other's bracelet.

Making sure problems didn't escalate and that everything was prepared for Visiting Day left Mrs. Cole and the caretakers too busy to keep a close eye on their resident toddlers.

"Do you think we'll be adopted tomorrow, Tom?" Harry asked.

Tom currently sat at one of the park tables outside the orphanage, at the girl's behest, attempting to learn the alphabet from a worn out book. His legs dangled in the air, not at all reaching the floor. Harry's body sprawled out across the picnic table bench, her head in Tom's lap, gazing up at the cloudy skies of London, making shapes out of the white overcast fog.

Tom glanced down at the girl in light annoyance, halting his left hand that lightly threaded through her dark curls. Harry huffed.

"No," he returned his attention to his book.

"But Tom, don't you like a mummy? Or a daddy?"

" 'Wouldn't you', Harry."

Harry let out a half strangled groan before sighing, " _Wouldn't you_ like a mummy?"

Tom sighed and rubbed his tiny palm into his face. He looked down at the four year old girl on his lap.

They had gone through this broken conversation before, many times over. In the time that Harry has been here, she had only ever been subject to five Visiting Days, two of the earliest in which both of them had not participated due to sickness.

The following three Visiting Days were odd for the two toddlers. Strange even.

Tom didn't remember exactly what happened during the next one.

He could blearily recall a blonde hair, brown eyed couple talking to him. They asked him what he liked to do and who his best friends were at the orphanage. They smiled a lot too, but about what Tom couldn't be certain.

He remembered talking only a little, about the color green and how apples were his favorite food.

Tom also remembered feeling a growing panic.

"Aren't you excited Tom? We need to make sure we pack up all of your things. They're picking you up tomorrow!" Lizzie exclaimed, enthusiastically, and Harry...well Harry didn't seem happy. He could only recall her looking distressed, face reddened, her _sense_ lashing out at his own, pulling his presence towards her. There was a loud bang and a squeeze of his insides.

And then nothing.

The next day Tom woke up next to Harry, confused and disorientated. Lizzie smiled down at him with all sympathetic eyes and soft tones, "There's always the next Visiting Day to look forward to, don't worry."

Harry's fourth Visiting Day, Tom only remembered Harry and himself being ignored, as if they weren't in the room. The couples had walked into the nursery and stopped at every crib to look at the baby or toddler inside. If the resident had the ability to speak, the prospecting parents would try to have a small conversation, indulging in 'baby talk'. They never stopped at Tom and Harry's crib. They walked past theirs as if it was only a stray crib with nothing inside.

Though it struck Tom as strange, he didn't care enough to put much thought into it. He felt more entertained by the fact he had made his pillow float for a few seconds with enough concentration. Harry only giggled and clapped at the spectacle.

It never occurred to him that Harry and him could be separated until the next Visiting Day. He never thought about it. He lived in the orphanage his entire life and remembered having Harry there for most if not all of it.

They were always together, chubby finger clasped with each other. They made a spectacle to the caretakers. Two beautiful toddlers, holding onto each others hand, the girl looking at the boy with stars in her eyes and he looking at her with...some sort of triumph.

She had an interview that day with a couple. One had blonde hair and the other jet black.

Tom had one in the other room. The caretakers made sure to not keep them too far apart.

The couple smiled at Harry, asking her if she liked to play with her friends; she was three and vibrant.

"I like to play with Tom!"

"Oh? And who's Tom? Have we seen him today?"

"Uhh...I dunno. He has black hair and realllyy blue eyes, so blue, Lizzie says they're the ocean! We play lotta games too!" Harry was bouncing in her seat, unable to keep still.

"Really and have you seen the ocean, little one?"

"No, but the Lady says she take us!"

"To the ocean?"

"Nuh uh, the sea, and Tom and I can meet a mermaid and see fishies...and talk to a whale!"

The conversation went on.

The bouncing child intrigued the Hughes.

She sported Cecil's black hair and Norah's green eyes, although her eyes were not as bright as this one. Her face didn't have the classic Hughes' nose or the straight locks, but if Norah looked hard enough, she could almost be certain that this tiny girl could pass off as one of their own. The girl's energy was infectious, definitely lovable. They would have to do something about that name though. Harry. Did their parents want to punish her after abandoning her too?

"We'd like to adopt Harry," Norah quickly said to the Matron.

Mrs. Cole smiled and clapped her hands together, "How wonderful! Why of course, it might take some time to get the paperwork settled, but we'll have no problem arranging it. In the meant time, Caretaker Elizabeth! Could you please prepare a room for Harry and the Hughes so they can give her the news?"

Lizzie smiled from where she was standing, "Why of course, Matron."

Not as many couples had come to visit the orphanage compared to Visiting Days past. Lizzie worried that not as many kids would get adopted; she was glad another one was. She briskly walked to the play area near the bookshelf to find Harry. As always, she found Harry sitting in her usual spot next to Tom.

Tom sat up against the wall, tiny legs outstretched in front of him, flipping through the pages of an old picture book. Harry sat beside him, head leaning on his shoulder watching closely. As always, hands entwined. Her eyes peered out significantly closer to the book than Tom, occasionally pointing to something of interest and taking in Tom's explanations.

Hm, they should probably inform the Hughes that the girl might need to get her eyes checked, Lizzie thought as she made her way over.

"Harry," the girl startled and Lizzie received a mildly annoyed glare from the boy next to her, "two of the people you met today want to talk to you again."

They both stared at her, one confused and the other with consternation. _She just had an interview_ , Tom thought angrily.

"Me?"

The caretaker nodded, "Come along, Harry, we don't want to keep them waiting". Lizzie looked over to Tom for a moment and made a quick decision, "You too, Tom. Perhaps you'd like to be there to hear Harry's wonderful news." Goodness, Lizzie could barely keep the smile off her face.

Tom looked up with some level of surprise which then morphed into one of blankness, "Yes, Miss Lizzie."

That boy, she thought, so odd and formal, but very polite. Won't he be so happy for her.

The two toddlers both found themselves in a dull interview room, with only a table and two chairs occupying it.

Harry perched on one chair, while Tom stood next to her like some kind of knight, her hand clutching his while she became increasingly confused and panicked. Tom reached out with his _sense_ and touched her, calming her, and she sighed with relief, brushing him back with thanks.

Sometimes Harry wondered what would it be like if Tom wasn't there. The thought felt like ice going down her spine.

No. Bad thoughts.

She tightened her hold on Tom's hand further.

This sight greeted the Hughes when Lizzie led them into the room.

Lizzie looked in between the two children and the couple, smiling, "I'll just leave you all here for a moment, don't mind me," and closed the door behind her.

It was kind of funny. The boy, though tall for his age, was only half a head taller than the table in front of him. The girl looked like she could just jump out of the seat with how restless she was, but him, he was motionless, standing there resolutely. His head peeked out from the table, staring at the both of them.

Cecil looked at his wife hesitantly, not sure of the boy's presence, but she just smiled and waved at the boy, "Hello, you must be Tom, right?"

He nodded solemnly, "Yes, Ma'am," and said nothing more.

Norah stood there awkwardly, not exactly sure how to continue the conversation, "Oh, alright. Yes. Anyway, Harry, we would like to speak to you," Norah sunk down to the chair next to her, getting closer to the three year old girl staring up at her with eyes almost similar to her own. Norah took a deep breath and smiled kindly.

Cecil placed a hand on top of his wife's shoulder in support and she gently grasped it, squeezing gently.

This was going to change all of their lives.

"Harry," she began slowly, "Cecil and I have talked to each other, and we've come to the decision that you would be a perfect addition into our family. You see," she continued, "Cecil and I, we aren't able to have kids of our own. You see, it wasn't in God's plan, and though it took time, we both came to the conclusion that God believed there were already enough children in the world who are in need of mums and dads"

She paused and took a deep breath.

"And then we saw you today. You, who has hair the color of Cecil's and eyes the color of mine, and we," Norah squeezed her husband's hand again, "both of us, believed it was in God's plan that we were led to you."

There were tears coming out of Norah's eyes and Cecil finished for her, clearing his throat and kneeling next to his wife.

"What we're trying to say, or what we're trying to ask you is would you give use the greatest honor of being a part of our family?" He smiled, "Would you like to become a Hughes?"

There was a pause. Harry sat there, still for the first time since she met the two, eyes widened in astonishment. What were they saying?

"You wanna...you wanna adopt me?" she looked up at the two.

Norah nodded and smiled even more broadly through her tears, almost choking on her next words.

"Yes! So what do you say? I would be your mum, and Cecil," she gestured, "he'll be your dad."

Harry shook with some kind of unknown feeling. She didn't know what to feel or what she was even feeling now.

"We can go see the ocean, together," Mrs. Hughes said.

Harry was at a lost for words. Did that really just happen? Is this- is this what it feels like to be-

"No."

Norah and Cecil jerked their heads up to the boy they had forgotten was standing there. Cecil narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'm sorry son, but that's not your decision to make."

Tom glared at the man, tiny hand gripping on the girl's next to him like a vice.

"You can't have her. She's mine."

 _This assuming brat_ , Cecil thought to himself.

Norah spoke, "Look, Tom, I know it's hard to give up a friend, trust me, I understand but she's going to a better place. She's going to have a family, isn't that what you would want for your friend?"

Tom leveled his glare at the woman, "You can't take her away from me, I won't let that happen."

Norah tried to retaliate again before she felt her airways clench. Her breath came out labored and straining. Invisible hands held on to her passage ways and squeezed, choking the living daylights out of her. She clawed at her neck to get whatever it was away but nothing was there. She grabbed at air.

Cecil looked at his wife in alarm, "Norah! Norah, love. What's wrong?"

She didn't respond. She could not suck any air into her lungs, she began to clutch at her neck.

He turned his gaze at the boy in panic only to see a small smirk on his face and a glare at his wife, "Stop it! Whatever the hell you are doing, stop it!"

Norah had no idea what was going on with her, she choked, not able to get enough air in her airways. She started to emit tears and that smirk was the only thing she could see in her blurred vision. She coughed and pointed at him with accusation. She didn't know how or what, but she knew within her heart of hearts that this was because of him.

"Stop please! Norah, breathe with me. Unhand her, you cretin," the man held his wife in his arms as she seemed to lose all oxygen from her lungs.

"Tom no!" Harry was frozen until now, only watching in shock but then the woman's face started to turn purple, and she couldn't stay still anymore.

Harry threw the hand that wasn't holding Tom's out at him. It didn't touch him. By all accounts, her tiny hand shouldn't have done anything, but the slow opening of her airways said that the young toddler did something to stop that devil child from cursing her.

After one strained moment, his hold on her airways vanished completely and Norah breathed in oxygen like no tomorrow.

She heaved in lungfuls and wide eyes peered at the two in front of them. This boy was not human, the devil was at work here. And the girl. Just as evil, just as filthy as he was. She backed away slowly. These two were no children of God. God would never make such sinful creatures. No. This was for certain the work of the devil. Both of them.

She glanced at Cecil next to him and could see his thoughts going along the same line.

They needed to get out of here.

At the first chance they both bolted, Cecil grabbing onto her hand, opening the door, and slamming it behind them as hard he could to get the hell away from those... _Mo_ _nsters_.

On their mad dash to the exit door, the crazy caretaker had blocked their way, "Oh, I was just coming to get you two. The matron has just finished getting the papers in order for the adopt-"

"We are not adopting that- that DEVIL THING into our family! I don't know what kind of establishment you run here, miss, but it is clear that it's not one of God!"

And with that the man took his wife's hand again and continued their dash to the exit.

Tom and Harry still sat in the interview room staring at each other, petulantly.

"You didn't hafta do that, Tom."

"Did you wanna leave me?"

"No! O'course not!" her brow furrowed with consternation, "But you didn't needta do that!"

"What do you think woulda happen, Harry? They woulda taken you away from me! They woulda kept us apart!" He leaned forward to grip her hand in his own, chubby cheeks puffing out in anger, "And what would you have done without me, Harry? Huh?"

Harry cried out in pain from how hard he was holding her hand, tears gathering in her eyes at the thought.

"I don't- wanna- leave you- Tom," she said in between sobs.

The four year old loosened his grip on her and caressed her cheek to wipe away the tears.

"You never will," the words were whispered, but she wasn't able to hear him.

The more Tom reminisced about the last Visiting Day, the more sure he was in his answer to Harry.

No, he would not like a mummy. Or a daddy. Or anybody. He only wanted or needed Harry, the only one who understood him and the power they both shared. Tom and Harry would not be adopted now or ever. Tom would make sure of it.

"I don't need anyone, Harry," he said as firmly as he could and turned back to his book on the alphabets, one hand returning to Harry's hair, untangling the unruly knots absentmindedly.

Harry decided not to answer, making a noise of contentment when Tom began to gently rake his nails through her scalp again. She nuzzled her head into his lap and began to watch the clouds again, making shapes and daydreaming about flying metal bicycles and flying tennis balls.

It was sheer bliss for both of them.

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To be continued...

 **A/N: I began to reminisce about this site again and then decided why not? Told you this one would be a doozy. Please Review.**

 **Ps. For those of you who have supported this story in the past 2 chapters, consider this one a thank you.**


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